


Wait for It

by MoraMew



Series: Kinktober 2017 [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Humiliation, Kinktober 2017, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Panties, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, Vaginal Sex, vibrating panties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 10:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12274731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoraMew/pseuds/MoraMew
Summary: "People can say whatever they want about Yachi Hitoka, but she’s a slave to desire just like anyone else. She’s sweet, yes. Adorable, yes. Shy and easily flustered and quickly embarrassed, yes. But that doesn’t discount the fact that she has her needs- her lusts and kinks and secret, greedy cravings that make her toes curl, that make her pretty brown eyes well up with tears."(Written for Kinktober 2017, Day 5: Humiliation)





	Wait for It

**Author's Note:**

> Few things:  
> Take this with a grain of salt and just assume that this has all been pre-negotiated ahead of time. I've written this with the thought that there's already an established D/S relationship.  
> I actually went a lot softer with this than I meant to.  
> The headcanon that Mattsukawa has a filthy mouth but is fond of schmoopy pet names will never be taken away from me.
> 
> Written for Kinktober 2017, Day 5. Prompt chosen: Humiliation | ~~Cuckolding | Body Swap~~

“Yacchan, are you alright?”

Matsukawa tries not to grin when Oikawa leans forward with a little frown on his face, a tilt of his head. He can feel Yachi’s body tense with the effort to not tremble beside him and wraps his arm around her shoulders a bit tighter, pulls her a bit more firmly against him.

“Something wrong, sweetpea?” he asks, rubbing her shoulder. There’s the quietest of noises let out at that, Yachi pressing into his side and pawing at his knee under the table. Matsukawa has to bite his cheek so he doesn’t smile and reaches over with his free hand, grabs her chin and turns her face toward him. “You’re looking a little flushed. You sick, sugar?”

Yachi _is_ flushed but he is all too well aware that it’s not because of some cold. Those hazy eyes and feverish cheeks are brought on by something a lot more fun and a lot more entertaining.

Matsukawa smiles faintly at her, smooths his thumb over her jawline and watches as long lashes flutter and pretty lips part.

It’s probably time to go now.

He pats her cheek gently and allows her to drop her head, hide the dazed want written all over her face.

“I think I should get her home,” Matsukawa says casually, rubbing her shoulder and glancing over at Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi looks at him with suspicion but Oikawa gives a little pout and hum, tilting his head to the side just a bit.

“Aww, Yacchan hasn’t even gotten to eat that much yet,” Oikawa sighs out. Matsukawa can’t quite help the grin that twitches on his lips at that; it’s more than amusing how much Oikawa _adores_ Yachi and how _flustered_ it makes her. “Get to go boxes. She might want it later.”

Matsukawa hums and moves his free hand under the table, runs his hand high up Yachi’s thigh and gives it a squeeze.

“Should we?” Matsukawa asks. He slips his hand underneath her skirt and brushes his fingers just over the hem of her panties, tries not to smirk when her hips twitch in a tight little motion. “You want it later?”

The shaky little breath that she takes is nothing short of satisfying.

“Y-yes, please,” Yachi whispers.

Matsukawa hums and pats her thigh before pulling his hand away, waves their waitress over and ignores the scowl that Iwaizumi is shooting his way.

Hypocrite. It’s not like Iwaizumi hasn’t pulled the same shit with Oikawa before.

Matsukawa boxes up Yachi’s meal for her and then slides out of the booth, crooks his finger and smiles when Yachi follows out after him with a bowed head. She takes the to-go box from him obediently and shivers when he wraps an arm around her waist, gives it a squeeze.

“We’ll catch you guys later,” Matsukawa tells Iwaizumi and Oikawa. He squeezes at Yachi again, slips his hand to the small of her back. “Won’t we, Hitoka?”

He glances down in time to catch her lashes fluttering, her head jerking with a tight nod. He dances his fingers along her spine and she tenses underneath his touch, trembles almost unnoticeably.

“Feel better, Yacchan,” Oikawa says, voice honestly earnest. Oikawa is such a _sucker_ for cute little baby dolls like Yachi. “You have to come to our barbeque this weekend, you know?”

Iwaizumi huffs and flicks Oikawa on the temple, tells him not to be selfish. He does soften a bit, though, as he flicks his gaze toward Yachi.

“Make him take care of you,” Iwaizumi tells her, jerking his chin toward Matsukawa. “We’ll see you later.”

Matsukawa smiles and leans down to murmur in Yachi’s ear, grins when she shivers at his lips brushing near her skin.

“Say goodbye, kitten,” Matsukawa tells her, slipping his fingers underneath her shirt to trace over her back.

Yachi shudders ever so lightly and swallows, bows her head just a bit.

“B-Bye, Iwaizumi-san, Oikawa-san,” she whispers out.

Matsukawa smiles and straightens, doesn’t bother with hiding the smugness that’s making his lips curl. He waves his free hand to his friends as a goodbye and slips his fingers out from underneath Yachi’s shirt, lightly presses his hand to the small of her back and nudges her toward the door.

She hurries obediently, shoulders trembling and breathing shaky.

Matsukawa waits until they’re out of the restaurant, has her pause at the door while he takes a cigarette out and lights it up. An inhale, a plume of smoke breathed out and then he grins, places his free hand to the back of her neck and makes her head bow as he leans down to her level.

“I’m disappointed, kitten,” he murmurs to her. “I thought you could last longer.”

There’s a nearly distressed noise let out at that, the styrofoam of the take-out box squeaking and creaking as her fingers grip at it more tightly.

“I-I’m sorry,” Yachi whispers, voice wavering and distraught.

Matsukawa hums and tightens his grip on that tiny, tiny neck, drags his thumb up and down soft skin slowly to make her shiver.

“I’m sorry _what_?” Matsukawa asks, words soft, dangerous.

A moan slips from her this time, small and quiet and betraying any shred of composure that she’s trying to pretend she has left.

“Sir,” Yachi mumbles, “I-I’m sorry, _Sir_.” 

Matsukawa grins, pleased with her state. He straightens and slides his hand down from her neck and over her spine, has it stop at the small of her back to rest once more.

“It must be bad if you’re forgetting yourself,” Matsukawa tells her, pushing her lightly to make her move. Yachi takes a trembling step forward and inhales a shaky breath, starts to slowly walk from the restaurant with him guiding her. “I was sure you were going to come right there in the booth. How embarrassing that would have been for you, kitten.”

She quivers and it makes his fingers stutter against her back, makes his lips curl into a grin that could rival the Chesire Cat’s. He plays nice and waits until they pass by a group of teens to continue his teasing, his bullying.

“You know that Iwaizumi knows what was happening, right?” Matsukawa taunts, voice oh so casual as he leads her toward the parking garage. “He knows you were squirming and trying to keep from coming like a desperate little slut in front of them.”

She gasps and it’s stuttered, half-way broken and splintered with shame and need.

People can say whatever they want about Yachi Hitoka, but she’s a slave to desire just like anyone else. She’s sweet, yes. Adorable, yes. Shy and easily flustered and quickly embarrassed, yes. But that doesn’t discount the fact that she has her needs- her lusts and kinks and secret, greedy cravings that make her toes curl, that make her pretty brown eyes well up with tears.

She’s such a fun little toy to play with.

Matsukawa takes another drag of his cigarette, runs his hand down to giver her ass a quick squeeze. She jumps and he chuckles, returns his hand to the small of her back and returns to his teasing.

“You like that though, don’t you?” Matsukawa asks, question lazy and voice purposefully benign. “You like that Iwaizumi knows you’re a dirty little girl. Everyone thinks you’re a sweet, innocent baby doll but you’re really just a lewd little slut.”

Yachi gasps loud enough that the couple they pass by stop and stare at her. Matsukawa smirks at them and pushes Yachi forward still, ignores the too curious looks on their faces.

“What?” Matsukawa asks, turning her to walk into the parking garage. “Going to come right here while we’re walking? Can’t even make it until we get home?”

A whimper this time for it, Yachi ducking her head and shuddering as he carefully shoves her toward the elevator. Her heels click unevenly against the pavement and for a moment he thinks that she’ll trip and fall but then she rights herself with a sniffle.

“S-Sir, _please_ ,” Yachi whispers, head still bowed.

He can hear the tears in her voice and takes one last drag of his cigarette, tosses it on the ground and grinds it out. He’s already so fucking hard but there’s still so much he wants to do to her.

So instead of dragging her into the bathroom like he wants, Matsukawa leans forward and hits the button to call the elevator, rests his hands on her hips and pulls her close against him. She’s so, so tiny and his crotch just hits about the small of her back in the heels she’s wearing. He wishes they were just a _bit_ higher so he could grind against her ass, get her falling to pieces against his chest.

Yachi’s shoulders jump when the elevator dings and he lets her hips go to nudge her into it, grins a little when he steps in after and she turns to him, trembling and whimpering and looking up at him with something desperate in her eyes.

He ignores her even if he wants to back her against the wall and kiss her until she collapses, turns around and hits the button to the floor where his car is waiting.

Wait. Wait. Just a little bit longer.

He still ignores her even when she sniffles and her knees knock together. He still ignores her when she squirms in place and she leans back against the wall of the elevator. He still ignores her when her hips twitch and she rolls them up with a shaky little shudder.

He still ignores her until the elevator stops and the doors open, until he takes a step out into the lot. Matsukawa turns around and crooks a finger toward her, narrows his eyes when she just stares at him and shivers. He points his finger down toward the stained concrete, looks at her firmly.

“Hitoka. Now.”

She jerks and gasps, stumbles forward and out before the doors can shut. Matsukawa doesn’t soften but steps over, grabs the back of her neck and holds it solidly.

“Walk.”

Yachi toddles forward, a slave to his will.

He keeps an eye out as they walk toward toward the car, glances around for anyone else on this level. It’s a ghost town without a soul in sight.

It’s perfect.

He keeps his hand on her neck until they reach the car and then slips it down her back, around her waist to give it a squeeze. He glances around once more and then nudges her toward the front of the car, further out of sight. She goes still once she reaches the passenger door, turns and looks up at him with her big doe eyes turned hazy and teary and half-shut. He takes the carry-out box from her and puts it on the roof of the car, turns to her and licks his lips as her hands flutter around her waist, fingers curling in an effort to not touch herself.

Matsukawa grins and she shakes like cornered prey.

He lifts a hand to cup her face, smooths his thumb over her bottom lip. Her mouth opens for him without further prompt and he slips his thumb into it, glides the rough pad of it over the edges of her teeth and onto her tongue. She closes her mouth to suck on it and Matsukawa breathes deep, puts his free hand on her waist and pins her hip against the hood of the car.

“Lift up your skirt,” Matsukawa orders her, lowering his head to whisper it in her ear nice and low to make her whimper. He grazes his teeth over the curl and her hands shoot out to grip at his shirt instead, a soft whine slipping from her. “I _said- **lift up your skirt**_.”

He bites the curl of her ear and she stiffens, moans quietly. Her hands release his shirt and his teeth release her ear. Matsukawa glances down and watches as her hands shake, as her eyes squeeze shut and she slowly lifts her skirt up for him.

What a good girl.

Matsukawa hums his approval and slips his hand down, rubs it over her absolutely _drenched_ panties and taps a finger over the quietly buzzing vibrator resting against her clit. Yachi’s hips twitch and she lets out a whimper, a strangled little moan.

“Sir, _please_ ,” she whispers, nervous and needy and on the verge of tears.

“Please what?” Matsukawa asks her. She just lets out a soft, upset noise and tries to roll her hips against his hand. Matsukawa tsks and slowly goes to his knees, smirks up at her. “So needy, kitten. You’re not going to come, are you? You know you don’t have permission.”

Yachi gives a quiet sob, her head bowing and hands shaking as she holds her skirt up. Matsukawa grins, focuses his attention down low.

She’s so fucking wet.

Her panties are wet, pale lavender darkened by the sticky juices flowing out of her. The fabric is just _molded_ to her and it’s so fucking _good_ , so tantalizing and so _erotic_. He could get off from just seeing that and decides to another time, slides his phone out of his pocket and snaps a photo. Yachi jerks when he does, knees knocking together and thighs closing.

Matsukawa looks up at her in warning but her eyes are squeezed shut. He clicks his tongue softly and grabs her thighs, forces her legs back open. Yachi trembles but doesn’t move to close them once he removes his hands, sniffles as he hums.

“You’re not behaving very well,” Matsukawa murmurs, reaching one hand back up to caress at a soft inner thigh. It’s sticky and warm, damp and just perfect for marking up. He ignores that desire, though, and dances his fingers up to brush over her mound, tease her by pulling the still vibrating panties to the side. “It would be a shame if, after all this, I didn’t let you come.”

Yachi inhales shakily and he’s sure that her eyes are open now, staring down at him pleadingly.

“But that’s all up to you, kitten,” Matsukawa tells her, running a finger through her slit. Her legs quiver and he licks his lips, eyes her hungrily. She’s so wet and so _pretty_. “You want to come? Then you better behave.”

Yachi tries to whisper something but Matsukawa’s mouth is watering and he’s too impatient to hold off from temptation. He leans forward and ducks his head down, drags his tongue through her slit and flicks at her clit. Yachi moans at that, grinds up against his face.

Shit.

Matsukawa knows it’s stupid but they’ve been playing with fire all day and she tastes so fucking _good_.

So he grabs one of her thighs and hooks her leg over his shoulder, makes her legs part wider and exposes her to him even more.

“S-Sir,” Yachi whispers, voice frantic and holding back a moan. “P-please, don’t. We’re-”

Matsukawa dives back in and she cries out, cutting herself off with a shaky groan. Her hips twitch against his face and he grabs onto them, pins them against the hood of the car and eats her out until she’s gasping, until she drops the skirt and digs her fingers into his hair. He growls against her then, pulls his head back and looks up at her, licks his lips.

“What did I say about behaving?” Matsukawa snaps, voice rough from his desire for her. “You don’t want to come?”

Yachi whimpers and sniffles, shakes her head. “N-no, _please_. I-I want…”

Matsukawa licks his lips again and fixes her panties, moves back and shrugs so her leg slides off his shoulder. Her heel hits the concrete with a loud clattering noise and Yachi’s face screws up with petulance, distress.

“You’re going to have to wait,” he tells her, standing back up and wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. “Get in the car.”

She stares up at him, lashes wet and lips quivering. But then she sniffles and ducks her head, opens up the car and slides in. Matsukawa smiles in satisfaction at her obedience and grabs the take-out box from the top of the car, walks around to his side of the vehicle. He stows away the food in the backseat and then climbs into the driver’s side, buckles himself in and starts the car. When he looks over at Yachi, her hands are clasped tightly in her lap, thighs firmly pressed together.

Just like a good girl.

Matsukawa backs the car out of the spot, starts winding out of the parking garage so he can get them home. He’s not about to cut back on the teasing, though, and reaches a hand over to grab her thigh as soon as he can drive safely with one hand.

“If you come before we got home, I’m going to bend you over my lap and spank you to tears,” Matsukawa warns her. It’s hardly a warning, really, since Yachi loves to be spanked but the threat of punishment for bad behavior makes Yachi let out an anguished little cry. “You don’t want that, do you?”

“N-no, please,” Yachi mumbles, one sniffle following after. Her voice is tiny and upset, wrecked from being on edge all day. “I wanna come.”

“Oh, I know you do, kitten,” Matsukawa hums out, slipping his hand in between her thighs. Her legs part automatically for him and he smiles in satisfaction, sneaks a finger underneath her panties and pushes in gently over her hole. “But you’re not coming until I say. Isn’t that right?”

A half-sob from Yachi, a nod when he chances a glance over toward her.

“Words, kitten,” he says with a sigh, injecting just a smidge of disappointment into his tone. “I know you can use them.”

“Y-yes, Sir,” Yachi mumbles, voice stuttering and small.

“Good girl,” he tells her, drawing his finger up her slit before moving his hand back to squeeze her thigh. “And why aren’t you going to come until I say?”

“B-because...because…” Yachi shudders and presses up into his touch, lets out a soft whine. “I’m not...I’m not allowed to c-come without...without…”

Matsukawa rubs her thigh and decides to be nice. He plans to be _very_ mean to her when they get home- he can give her a break for the moment.

“Without my permission,” Matsukawa finishes for her. Yachi sniffles and parts her legs a bit wider, shifts so his hand ends up closer to her crotch. “Because you’re my kitten and that means you’re under my control.” Matsukawa dances shifts his hand up high, teases with little finger taps against her panties. “Whatever I want to do with you, you’ll let me. Whatever orders I give you, you’ll obey them. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Sir,” Yachi whispers.

“Mm, that’s a good girl,” Matsukawa tells her, satisfaction clear in his words. “So no coming. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Yachi mumbles. “I...I understand.”

Matsukawa smiles and pats her thigh, takes his hand back. He dips his hand into his blazer pocket and takes out the remote to the panties, flicks the setting from a teasing purr to something a bit more torturous. There’s a gasp that tears from Yachi immediately, followed by a ragged moan. Matsukawa just stows the remote in his pocket and places his hand on the wheel, smirks to himself.

“Remember what I just said, kitten,” he reminders her.

He just gets a moan in response.

The rest of the drive home is riddled with gasps and whimpers and mewls, Yachi squirming in her seat and digging her nails into her thighs in an effort to not touch herself, come.

She’s done spectacularly well, honestly. He’s been teasing her ever since he woke her up by parting her pretty thighs and burying her face in her. No relief, no orgasm. Just teasing until she was moaning his name. Shoving her in the shower with him and fingering her until her legs threatened to give out. Bending her over the bathroom counter and eating her out again until she was begging without restraint. Just bringing to the edge again and again until it was time for Yachi to slip on her new pair of panties, until it was time to leave for lunch, until it was time to meet Iwaizumi and Oikawa and have her sit in the booth and slowly break apart.

It’s been a good day. He’s so glad she asked for all of it.

The drive home is short but he takes his time with it, keeps Yachi twitching and shuddering in the passenger seat for a little longer than necessary. When they pull into the garage, there’s something like a whimper of relief from her.

Matsukawa just smiles faintly and parks the car, shuts the engine off and steps out. Yachi stays sitting and fidgeting in the passenger seat while he grabs the food from the back, looks up at him with tears threatening to spill out from the corners of her eyes. Her makeup is starting to smear just a bit and it’s so fucking _hot_ to Matsukawa.

He ignores the urge to just pull his cock out then and there and smiles at her instead, offers his hand to help her out of the car. When she places her own in it, her fingertips are shaking just so and Matsukawa gives into some softness, bends to press his lips to those trembling tips.

A tear or two or three slip down Yachi’s cheek at that and he smiles at her, cups her face and swipes them away.

“Almost, kitten,” he whispers. “Almost. Keep being a good girl for me.”

Yachi sniffles and nods and Matsukawa smiles, pats her cheek and helps her out of the car. He closes the door and leads her into the house, gives her the order to wait in the study for him while he puts away the food. Yachi stumbles off immediately and Matsukawa makes his way to the kitchen, carefully stows away her left-overs in the fridge.

He leans against the counter and closes his eyes, squeezes at his cock through his slacks and groans quietly. He’s so fucking _hard_ and he’s sure his briefs are just a filthy mess of pre-come.

Matsukawa takes a deep breath and squeezes himself again, moves his hand away and dips it into his pocket. He flicks the remote up to the highest setting and snickers when a yelp floats all the way from the study toward the kitchen.

The panties were a really good idea.

Matsukawa hums and pushes himself off the counter, starts walking toward the study. He undos the top three buttons of his shirt as he walks, licks his lips when he gets half-way down the hall and hears a soft sob sound from the study.

He’s not sure how long he’s going to last but _god_ is he looking forward to this.

Matsukawa steps into the room and shuts the door behind him, smiles almost smugly at Yachi sitting on the floor. Her knees are splayed out and she’s bent over so her forehead is almost touching the floor, hands fisting the rug as she gasps and trembles. It’s an amusing sight and a welcome one but Matsukawa forces his smile back, forces himself to be a bit more blank faced as he walks toward his armchair. He strips his blazer off in the process and grabs the remote from it before dropping it to the floor.

Yachi whimpers when he passes by her and he has to take a deep breath so he doesn’t kneel on the floor along with her.

Matsukawa sits himself in the armchair and sprawls out a bit obnoxiously, spreads his legs wide and lets a small smile curl his lips up.

“Kitten.”

Yachi’s head snaps up immediately and she trembles, looks at him with a needy expression that makes him want to groan.

Matsukawa breathes deep and crooks a finger, beckons her to come to him. Yachi shivers and then crawls forward, moves on her hands and knees until she’s resting between his legs, looking up at him with glassy eyes and parted lips. He grabs her chin and smooths his thumb over her mouth, drags it down to her jawline and cups her face.

“You want to come, kitten?” Matsukawa asks.

Yachi sways in place and nods, sniffles and presses into his hand.

“Words, kitten,” he reminds her. “I’m not going to let you do anything if you don’t behave properly.”

A soft sob and another nod, Yachi trembling and pushing into his hand even more.

“I-I wanna come. Please, Sir. I n-need it,” Yachi begs. Tears slide down her cheeks in crystalline droplets and Matsukawa has to swallow back a swear at how fucking _pretty_ she looks like this. “I c-can’t w-wait. _Please_.”

“You can wait,” Matsukawa tells her firmly. “And you will. You’re going to _earn_ it. Am I understood?”

Yachi shakes and her face breaks, crumbles into a mess of desperation and frustration and petulance. He waits patiently and she shudders, breathes in shallow and fast and gives a tiny nod, doesn’t protest even though Matsukawa knows she must want to.

“Y-Yes...yes, Sir,” Yachi mumbles, voice wet and thick with distress.

“Good girl,” Matsukawa tells her. He licks his lips and eyes her down on the floor, caresses her cheek with a gentle hand. “Now, tell me what you are.”

Yachi sniffles and Matsukawa waits patiently, skirts his fingers over her cheek and runs them through her hair.

“Y-your kitten,” Yachi mumbles, as if unsure of herself and how she’s supposed to answer.

Matsukawa hums and nods, brushes her bangs from her face. “And what else?”

Yachi bites her lip and shivers, her back arching lightly when Matsukawa fiddles with the remote in his free hand, turns it down one level.

“Your...your…” Yachi sniffles and closes her eyes, bows her head as her cheeks flare up bright. “Your...sl-slut…”

Matsukawa hides a groan and slips his hand down to tilt Yachi’s face back up with his knuckle, looks down at her with half-shut eyes. He knows it’s so, so hard for her to say these sort of things and so, so good for her to say them as well. It’s such a treat to force her into the dirty talk she craves but is too caught up in her chasteness to think about indulging in.

Matsukawa hums and drags his knuckles over her jawline, down her neck just a bit. 

“Slut,” Matsukawa repeats, voice near soft. “My kitten, my slut, my toy, my needy little baby doll, my fucking cock hungry _bitch_. Isn’t that right?”

Yachi lets out a sob but nods, tears starting flow down faster. When she opens her eyes her lashes are wet, threatening to stick to her cheeks but fluttering open to leave smears of black on soft, flawless skin. Her eyes are reddened and glassy, crinkling up at the corners from all the emotions running through her.

It’s so beautiful. She’s so beautiful.

“Say it,” Matsukawa orders, moving to pet at her cheek with his knuckles. “All of it. Tell me what you are.”

More tears, more trembling. She looks as if she’ll shake apart, fall to pieces and crumble to bits right in front of him.

“I...I…” She whimpers and squeezes her eyes shut, slips further and further into the submission she craves, the submission he craves. “I’m your...your kitten. Your...s-slut. T-Toy. N-needy...needy baby doll...and...and…” Yachi whimpers again, ducks her head as her shoulders shake. “C-Cock...c-cock...cock hungry b-bitch.”

It’s not all of it like he ordered but it’s most of it and it’s all the words that count. Even with her voice stuttering and wavering, choked and upset, it’s still so fucking _good_ hearing those words come from lips that usually only speak sweetly, innocently.

Matsukawa swallows hard and runs his fingers through her hair, tries his best to not swear and break from the role that she asked him to play for the night.

“That’s right,” Matsukawa tells her. He grips her chin and forces her face up again, stares hungrily down at the dazed look on her face, the tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. “My slut, my toy, my bitch, my _cunt_.”

Yachi sobs so _loudly_ at that, nods and tries to push forward to hide her face on his lap. A twinge of guilt goes off underneath the excitement and pleasure running through him and Matsukawa softens ever so slightly, licks his lips and smiles down at her.

“And my kitten,” he adds, wiping away a few tears with his finger. “My precious little kitten.”

Yachi just cries harder, a hand reaching to fist his pant leg, reaching to ground her. Matsukawa brushes a few more tears away and then pats her head, moves to dig the heel of his palm against his truly aching cock.

“Now you’re going to earn your orgasm,” he tells her, unbuttoning his pants and slowly pulling the zipper down. He pulls his cock out and Yachi whimpers, leans forward ever so slightly. “Put that pretty little mouth to work.”

“Y-yes, Sir,” Yachi whispers, tears still falling and a hand reaching to grasp him.

He throbs in her hand and has to bite his cheek so he doesn’t rut against it. Yachi gives one little sniffle and then leans forward, opens her mouth and peeks out a pink tongue. The first little lick to the tip of his cock makes him huff out a breath of air. The second makes him grit his teeth. The third makes him groan and the fourth makes him reach a hand out, curl his fingers into her hair.

Matsukawa fumbles with the remote and turns the panties off so she can concentrate and Yachi whines, rubs her face against his shaft and looks up at him with a hazy gaze.

“I told you to put your mouth to work,” Matsukawa tells her, voice harsh. “You’re not doing a good job of earning your orgasm, are you?”

Yachi whimpers and mumbles a weak apology, turns her head and starts mouthing at his cock. Matsukawa groans quietly and tugs at her hair lightly, pulls at it until she runs her lips up to his head and starts swallowing him down slowly.

“That’s better,” Matsukawa mutters. “Go on, take more. I know you can.”

Yachi lets out a strangled moan and obeys, takes about half of his cock before pulling back up and whimpering.

“Don’t be lazy,” he tells her, curling his fingers tighter into her hair. “I’m not going to let you come unless you show me you want it.” He pulls her head back from his cock and grasps himself, jerks himself and breathes deep through his nose. “You don’t want it?”

“No, I want it,” Yachi whispers, voice desperate. “Please, Sir, l-let me... _please_ …”

He lets himself go and releases her hair, digs his teeth into his cheek when she trembles and then pushes forward, swallows his cock down without hesitation. He has to grit his teeth when her lips brush against his pelvis, when she looks up at him with watery eyes and her throat swallows around a gag.

“That’s better,” Matsukawa nearly hisses. Yachi’s lashes flutter and she starts bobbing her head, sucking him off like such a _good_ girl. “You belong on your knees, just like this. Pretty and well behaved and eager to be used. That’s what you want, right? To be used like a dirty little _slut_.”

Yachi whimpers around him, pulls off and wraps a tiny hand around his cock, starts pumping him as she lays her head on his lap and stares up at him with hazy, teary eyes.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, almost breathing it out. “Want it. Please…”

Matsukawa groans quietly and she turns her head just a bit, mouths at his balls while she twists her wrist, strokes up and smooths her thumb over his head.

“Of course you want it. Because you know it’s all you’re good for, right? Just a pretty little fuckhole made to be used,” he tells her, forcing his voice stable and confident to hide how he’s quivering a little on the inside. God, he wants to _fuck_ her. “Isn’t that right?”

Yachi whimpers and her eyes fill up with more tears, head moving so he can’t see her face. She shakes and she trembles but then she nods, one big, hiccuping sob slipping out as she does.

When she lifts her head she looks broken and dazed, like some pretty doll brought to life just for his pleasure.

Matsukawa lets his eyes draw half-shut as he looks her over, feels his cock twitch in her hand as he takes in the smeared make up, the flush on her cheeks, wet lashes and glazed over eyes.

Yachi is so fucking _beautiful_.

Matsukawa licks his lips and reaches a hand to grip her hair tight, lips curling into a grin when her lashes flutter and she lets out a soft, wanting noise.

“Open your mouth,” Matsukawa tells her. “You want to be used, so I’m going to use you. Fuck your pretty face. You want that?”

“Yes, Sir, please,” Yachi mumbles almost immediately. She shifts and tries to move her head forward, shivers when his hold on her hair keeps her in place. Her bottom lip quivers and some distraught need makes her whine quietly. “Please?”

It comes out needy and upset, her voice wavering as if she’s really about to cry because he’s making her wait to get face fucked. After all the teasing and all the denial throughout the day, Matsukawa wouldn’t be surprised if she did cry. But it’s still so fucking _good_ even besides all of that and he nearly growls, nearly comes then and there.

He takes a deep breath instead and gathers her hair up in his hand, pulls her toward his cock. Her mouth opens wide for him and he pushes her down to take him in, pulls her hair tight when she moans around him.

God, _fuck_.

He takes a deep breath and centers his self-control, reminds himself that he’s being _mean_ today but he’s not going to be _rough_. Yachi asked for catharsis through denial and humiliation- not rough hands and hard thrusts.

That can wait for another day.

Matsukawa readjusts his grip on her hair and rocks up shallowly into her mouth, groans when she whimpers. He tries to keep it slow, tries to get her used to it as he makes each rock a bit deeper. It doesn’t take her long to start to drool and Matsukawa has to close his eyes at how wet it all is, how fucking good her mouth feels.

He pulls her down a bit more rough than he means, makes her choke and groans as her throat spasms around him, as she gags and tries to swallow, tries to breathe. She doesn’t thrash or fuss and stays still except for shaking shoulders and Matsukawa holds her down for one...two...three seconds and then pulls her up carefully, groans again when she coughs and a little waterfall of spit falls from her mouth, drips down onto his cock.

“Messy little slut,” he breathes out almost shakily. “Come on, let me see.”

Yachi moans as he forces her head to tilt back so he can see just how out of it she is.

She looks gone, really. Half-shut eyes all muddied and leaking tears, mascara running down her face and lipstick smeared, drool dripping from her pretty lips and down her chin. She looks wrecked and used and hazy. She doesn’t look like Yachi Hitoka; she doesn’t look like the always carefully put together, sweet, innocent princess that everyone expects her to be. She looks dirty and needy and obscene- like everything no one expects her to be. Lewd. Pornographic. Filthy.

She looks beautiful.

Matsukawa breathes deep and keeps her hair held tight in his hand, cups her face with his other. Yachi shudders and her lashes flutter, some soft whine slipping from her when Matsukawa smooths his thumb over her cheek, smears her makeup even more.

“Turn around and get on your hands and knees for me,” Matsukawa instructs her. “Pull your panties down and present yourself like a good little slut.”

She sways and nods, backs away when he drops his hand from her face. Yachi shakily turns around and crawls away a few steps, raises her hips high in the air and presses her face against the floor, flips up her skirt. She trembles and looks back at him, raises her hands and hooks her fingers under the hem of those _soaked_ panties, slowly starts to peel them from her and roll them down her thighs.

Matsukawa digs his nails deep into his palm as he stares at her, as he devours her with his gaze.

Fuck it’s such a perfect sight.

Matsukawa takes a breath and wraps a hand around his cock, smears spit and drool all over it as he licks his lips, takes her in.

“God, you look like such a fucking slut,” Matsukawa tells her, voice rough. “I should take a photo and send it to Tooru and Hajime. Show them what a dirty little kitten you are. You want me to do that?”

Yachi whimpers and shakes her head, sobs when Matsukawa raises a foot and rubs the toe of his shoe against her. There’s an instant grind against it, a sheen left behind when she stills. Matsukawa’s nostrils flare at that and he taps the toe of his oxfords against her clit, makes her hips tighten and twitch from the effort to stay still, to _behave_.

“You’d let me, though, wouldn’t you?” he asks, continuing on. “If I wanted to take a photo and send it to them, you’d let me. If I wanted to take a video and send it to them, you’d let me. If I wanted to call them in the middle of fucking your pretty little brains out, you’d let me. Wouldn’t you?”

Yachi shivers and Matsukawa lazily nudges at her truly _dripping_ sex, makes her moan as he licks his lips and toys with her.

“Y-yes,” Yachi mumbles, thighs flexing and a whimper trailing after.

“I could do anything I wanted to you and you’d thank me for it,” Matsukawa tells her, twisting his wrist and swallowing back a groan when she nods and sniffles. “Even if I came right now all over your face and left you aching for an orgasm, you would thank me for it. Because you’re my good little kitten that knows whatever I give you is more than you deserve. Isn’t that right?”

Yachi sniffles again and mumbles a confirmation, looks at him as more tears slide down her face. She nearly looks as if she’s going to pass out with her eyes half-shut and her lips parted, soft pants slipping from her.

“But I’m not going to do that,” Matsukawa says, voice almost soft. “I’m going to fuck you and, depending on how good you keep on being, I’ll let you come. Do you want that, kitten?”

Yachi nods and whimpers, a hazy “please, Sir” muttered out. Matsukawa hums and taps against her a bit more firmly, rubs his shoe over swollen lips and a glistening slit.

“What is this?” Matsukawa asks, nudging her and making Yachi whine. “Tell me what this dripping, wet, needy _thing_ is.”

Yachi moans and grinds back even though he moves his foot away, hips moving back against nothing and giving her not a sliver of relief. She whines, the noise coming up high from her throat, and curls her fingers against the rug, closes her eyes and swallows before answering.

“My...my…” Yachi whimpers and Matsukawa eyes the way her soft, pale thighs flex, how her hips jerk in a tight motion. “My...my p-pus...my p-pussy.”

Matsukawa swallows hard at that and nudges her again, tries not to buck into his hand. He has to force his hand away so he doesn’t come too soon and digs his nails deeper into his palm, clings to his self-control.

“No,” Matsukawa tells her, voice nearly raspy. “What is it?”

Yachi’s eyes flutter open and her face scrunches up with distress, lips trembling and a frustrated whine sounding from her. He waits as patiently as he can, digs his teeth into his cheek when she groans, squeezes her eyes shut.

“My...my…” A deep breath and then a full body tremble from Yachi. “My c-cunt.”

 _Fuck_.

Matsukawa groans and nearly comes from just that, desperately files away the memory of those pretty lips saying such a dirty word.

He wants to give in and say that that’s right. He wants to give in and slip to the floor, push himself in and fuck her hard.

But he can’t and Matsukawa takes a deep breath, taps the toe of his shoe against her once more.

“No,” he tells her. “What is it?”

This time her eyes snap open and bewilderment crosses over a pretty, hazy face. She looks at him in confusion and lets out a soft, question noise, bites her lip and looks just like a student perplexed by a complicated homework question.

It’s almost cute enough to distract Matsukawa from how his cock is throbbing, spilling more pre-cum as he waits to fuck her.

It takes a few moments but a small bit of clarity seems to spread across her face and she blinks, lashes drawing half shut and something like devotion filling her gaze.

“Yours,” Yachi mewls. “It’s yours.”

Matsukawa smiles in satisfaction and nods, grasps his cock again and gives it a squeeze.

“That’s right, kitten,” Matsukawa says. “Mine. Every single part of you belongs to me. Isn’t that right?” Yachi nods immediately and his smile flicks into a grin. “Good girl. I’m going to fuck you but you’re going to ask for it like a good little slut. Do you understand?”

Yachi nods and blinks, eyes staying shut for just a moment while she shivers. She crawls forward a bit and bites her lip, takes a deep breath and then runs her hands up her thighs. Matsukawa’s eyes widen when Yachi _spreads_ herself open for him, looks back at him with a nearly slitted gaze as she moans.

“Please fuck me, Sir,” Yachi whines, voice soft and needy and tinted desperate. Matsukawa swallows hard at the words, how she manages to say them without stuttering. “Please fuck your slut.”

 _Fucking hell_.

Matsukawa growls through gritted teeth, goes to the floor and leans over her, grabs her neck and keeps her face to the rug with one hand and grasps his cock with the other. He lines himself up and hunches over, leans down to brush his lips over her ear when he presses the tip of his cock to her entrance.

“Good girl,” he mutters. “Such a fucking _good_ girl.”

Matsukawa pushes in and buries himself to the hilt in one fluid thrust, groans loudly at how fucking _wet_ and _tight_ she is, how those silken walls clench around him as Yachi gasps and tries to push back against him. Matsukawa bites down on the curl of her ear in warning and she cries out, goes still underneath him.

He has to take a moment to gather himself before he can move but pulls almost all the way out when he’s sure he’s not going to come. He waits a moment longer and then thrusts, grits his teeth at the lewd, wet noise that sounds and the way Yachi absolutely shakes from it.

Matsukawa keeps his hand on her neck until he finds a good pace, moves it to cup her face and turn it toward him. She whimpers and whines, looks at him with flushed cheeks and wet lashes and parted lips.

“Feel good?” he asks, smoothing his thumb over her jawline.

“Uh-huh, yeah,” Yachi mumbles, voice almost a little delirious and slurred as she squeezes around him. “Please, more. Want it.”

Matsukawa fucks her a little faster, a little harder. He tries to find her sweet spot, swears when she starts sobbing when he does. She gets impossibly tight around him and Matsukawa feels himself go a bit light headed from it.

“Fuck, kitten,” Matsukawa hisses. “So tight. You going to come?”

She sniffles and nods, leans her head heavily against his hand cupping her.

“Please,” Yachi begs, voice small and broken and so, so gone. “Please let me come, Sir.”

Matsukawa groans and nods, snaps his hips rough. “Shit, yeah. Come for me. Let me feel you come on my cock.”

Yachi sobs and nods, rocks her hips back to meet his. There’s a tight, tight squeeze and Matsukawa hisses as she weeps, as she tenses up and then goes absolutely slack underneath him as she rides it out. He pulls her face closer and crashes their lips together, kisses her deep as he tries to stave off his own orgasm.

It’s almost impossible. He’s been so fucking hungry for her all day and she’s so tight and so wet and the way she whimpers into the kiss is so fucking _good_ and-

Matsukawa groans and bites into her bottom lip, pulls out and moves away. There’s a noise of confusion but Matsukawa just grabs onto her and flips her over, tears the panties off the rest of the way and knocks her legs apart, crawls in between them. He slides right back into tight, wet, _perfect_ heat and Yachi gasps loudly, lets a quiet scream bubble out of her throat.

He knows it’s so, so much for her after being edged all afternoon but he keeps fucking her, braces himself over her and kisses her hungrily as he snaps his hips and rocks almost roughly.

She starts squeezing around him again and Matsukawa pants against her lips, gathers her up in his arms and pulls her close, pulls his head back so he can take in her glassy eyes and the wordless moans and sobs and gasps. Her legs wrap around his waist and her feet cross at the ankles and it makes everything so, so tight and breaks his self-control down to the tiniest sliver.

“Going to come again, sweetheart?” he asks, voice hoarse. There’s a hiccuping sob and a nod, Yachi trying to rock her hips to meet his thrusts. Matsukawa groans and rests his forehead against hers, forces himself to keep his eyes open. “Come for me, kitten. Let me feel you again.”

A whimper and a squeeze, Yachi’s head dropping to her chest as she cries and shakes and falls apart in his arms. It becomes almost painful as she clenches around him and Matsukawa groans, hips starting to stutter against her as she comes again.

“IsseiIssei _Issei._ ”

The moaned out litany of his name shatters that last fragment of control and Matsukawa snaps his hips rough, groans loudly as his eyes screw shut and he’s rendered breathless. He has just enough sense left to cradle her head before they fall back against the floor and he grinds deeps into her, molds his lips against Yachi’s and greedily swallows all the soft sobs that slip from her.

There’s a need for more, though, even with his mind swimming and his cock spurting into her, and he pulls back with a hiss, slides out and down to her. There’s a cry of protest when he dives between her pretty legs but it’s cut off with a mewl, a twitch of her hips against his face.

He drags his tongue through her slit and fucks his tongue into her, groans over the salty taste and the way she throbs around him. He eats her out until she writhes weakly, until she comes almost pathetically once again, crying and trying to push his head away from her with shaky hands.

Matsukawa sits up and licks his lips, wipes his hand over his wet mouth, wet chin. Her eyes are barely open when he looks down at her, mouth hanging open and body trembling. Matsukawa leans until he can kiss her and does it sweetly and gently, sighs happily and pulls back the tiniest fraction.

“I love you so much, Hitoka,” he mumbles against her lips.

She just lets out the softest sob in response, her mouth opening and closing without sound when Matsukawa moves back to look down at her fondly, traces her cheek with a gentle finger.

“L-love...love you,” Yachi manages to mumble, lashes fluttering and words slurred. “Love you. Love you so much. Love you…”

Matsukawa smiles and tucks himself away, buttons his pants before he slips his arms underneath her and lifts her up. A hand weakly grabs onto his shirt and he kisses her forehead, stands up shakily.

“Going to take care of you, baby doll,” he promises as her tiredly begins to walk out of the room. “Going to clean you up and spoil you silly for the rest of the day, sweetpea. You were such a good, good girl. So good for me. A perfect little kitten.”

Yachi shivers and whines, buries her face against his chest.

Matsukawa carries her to the bathroom and sits her on the counter, kisses her softly as he unbuttons her shirt and undos her bra, strips them off. He tosses the clothes into the hamper and then kneels, fumbles with the ankle straps of her heels until they’re loosened and then slides them off her feet. He kisses the top of her left foot and then her right, looks up at Yachi with a soft smile and catches the fresh wave of tears slipping out from reddened eyes.

Matsukawa stands and kisses her, runs his fingers through her gnarled hair before stepping over to the shower and turning it on. He kicks off his own shoes and sheds his clothes, walks over to the counter and helps her off it. Yachi trembles when her feet hit the ground and she leans against his chest, lets out a tired and upset noise.

“I know, honey bun,” he tells her, rubbing her back apologetically. “You’ve been through so much today. Just let me clean you, sweetheart, and then you can rest, I promise.”

Yachi sniffles but nods and stumbles over to the shower on legs shaking like a newborn fawn’s.

Matsukawa follows her closely, keeps a hand hovering near her just in case she threatens to fall. Yachi stays upright, though, and he steps into the shower after her, places his hands on her small hips and presses a kiss to the top of her hair. She trembles and mumbles his name, leans back against him heavily.

Matsukawa just smiles fondly and holds her close for a moment, lets her go so he can scrub them down.

He cleans her and then himself, apologizes when she whimpers and her legs shake. He hurries and ushers her out of the shower, wraps her in a fluffy towel and pats her dry. Matsukawa lets Yachi sit on the edge of the tub while he dries himself off but gathers her in his arms again when he’s ready, picks her up and carries her to the bedroom.

Yachi clings to him and yawns so very quietly as he walks to their bedroom, whines petulantly when he sets her down on their bed.

“Kitten, do you want one of my shirts?” he asks, petting her damp hair. She nods and leans into his touch, face crumpling in near childish distress when he steps away. “I’ll be back in just one second, sweetie. Not going to leave you.”

There’s just a soft whine and a sniffle in response.

Matsukawa walks quickly over to the dresser and digs out a pair of briefs and a pair of sweatpants for himself, one of his shirts and a pair of panties and socks for Yachi. He hurries back to the bed and slips his change of clothes on, picks up his shirt and asks her to put her arms up. She obeys and he slides it on, leans and presses a kiss to her cute little button nose once her head pops out of the hole.

The panties are worked on next and then the socks, kisses pressed softly to her calves, her knees, her inner thighs. He sweeps her up in his arms again and presses his lips to her cheek, smiles when she lets out a quiet cooing noise.

“Snack time,” he tells her. “And then we rest. We can curl up in bed and watch movies and nap. Do you want that?”

Yachi nods and curls her fingers against his chest, yawns as he carries her off the kitchen.

“We’ll watch whatever you want,” Matsukawa promises her, voice soft. “You were such a good girl today, Hitoka. I’m going to give you everything you want.”

She shivers in his arms, small and delicate and out of it as she tilts her head back and looks up at him with still muddied eyes.

“You,” Yachi mumbles. “Want...I want you…”

Matsukawa huffs out a laugh and smiles, holds her tighter to him as he steps into the kitchen.

“Angel eyes, I’m all yours,” he tells her, setting her down onto the counter. She stares at him with a fuzzy gaze and he cups her face, presses a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you more than you know.”

Yachi smiles, content and sated and blissful. “Love you too…”

Matsukawa presses a kiss to her forehead and backs away to pour her a glass of water, smiles in satisfaction to himself.

God, what a good day.

**Author's Note:**

> They're going to watch Studio Ghibli movies for the rest day and eat ice-cream and cuddle up close.
> 
> Come say hi and hello on [my tumblr](https://moramew.tumblr.com/)~


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